


blame it on the boys who keep hitting on you

by crimsonfamily



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Drabble, Gay Male Character, M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wet Dream, desmond is gay, i love desmond so much, may or may not be a little bit of a self insert, self induldent as heeelllllllll, there was never a wife. only a husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonfamily/pseuds/crimsonfamily
Summary: desmond wakes up from a... certainly interesting dream.very self indulgent
Relationships: Desmond Sycamore/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	blame it on the boys who keep hitting on you

**Author's Note:**

> no plot what so ever. im terrified abt posting this LMAO
> 
> title is from "blame it on the girls" by mika!

The summer had barely even begun, yet it was already a very warm mid-May morning in the city of London.

“ _ A-ah… Haah… _ ”   
Desmond lay on his bed. Messy curls spread around his head like a caramel halo, his fingers slowly creeping along the soft skin of his perineum, gently, sleepily massaging towards his rim. As he gently stroke the engorged length that was straining against his lower abdomen, he bent his knees closer to his chest, letting more soft noises of pleasure pass over his lips. Massaging his opening, he moaned quietly. It wasn’t enough.  _ Lube _ , he thought absentmindedly through the arousal and pleasure which clouded his mind.   
He had woken up strangely aroused this morning, and recalling his dream had really just made matters worse. Blond curls. Soft fingers. Rose tattoos. Lace cloth. Glasses off, clothes off, nude bodies against one another, shivers, moans, kisses, bites, gasps of pure pleasure…   
Reaching for his bedside drawer with one arm and quickly fishing the bottle up, he fumbled with the cap trying to get it open.  _ Curse this _ . He half-sat up and, upon using both his hands, finally got the damned glide open.   
Lying back down again, he immediately poured the cool liquid on his fingers. Wasting little time warming it up, he immediately went back to massaging his twitching opening. His fingers slipped in easily, making him moan rather shamefully at the entry. Goodness, it had been way too long since he saw his blond sweetheart, hadn’t it? Why did he have to be in another country reading up about work while Desmond was stuck doing excavations around England and occasionally teaching at Gressenheller?   
No matter. Back to the task at hand, he worked his fingers deeper and curled them until he found  _ that _ spot. Moaning loudly, he involuntarily arched his back off the bed and pushed his fingers deeper into his hole. He didn’t have to work much longer, already feeling his orgasm building up from pressing against his prostate over and over again after already being halfway there from that forsaken dream that left him hard and aching and grasping his sheets in his sleep.   
Grabbing his erection, he rubbed it steadily, and after a couple of final hits against his prostate, he moaned loudly as his body shook, pleasure spilling over. He came in short spurts, head thrown back, his length twitching. Desmond gasped after air, realizing he’d called  _ his _ name several times during his orgasm. He really was, what did the kids call it?, whipped, wasn’t he… 

Desmond Sycamore decided that a shower was in order; as soon as his legs started working again, anyways.   
And then, maybe a call to that darling of his. He missed his voice a lot more than he anticipated, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh im gay


End file.
